


Revenge - a Pendergast series fanfiction

by BlackTies_and_SilverEyes



Category: Agent Pendergast Series - Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Genre: Constance - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Diogenes/Constance, F/M, Hurt Diogenes, Hurt Pendergast, Kidnapped Constance, Multi, Pendergast - Freeform, Vincent D'Agosta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackTies_and_SilverEyes/pseuds/BlackTies_and_SilverEyes
Summary: Diogenes pays a visit to 891 in the early morning. He kidnaps Constance and leaves his great brother behind, poisoned and injured. Pendergast and Vincent attempt everything to find Constance, but there is something that no one could ever anticipate. And these happenings will affect both Pendergast's, Diogenes' and Constance's lives forever...





	1. Prologue / A visit

Riverside Drive, 4.30 am  
Pendergast opened his eyes. The first seconds after he had been pulled out of his sleep he wasn´t even confident about what exactly had woken him up. But his mind cleared as he became aware of the presence of somebody in his bedroom… The last assurance of his doubt came a few seconds later:  
“Ave, frater”, spoken in a silky New Orleans accent. The phrase sent a chill down his spine. There was no time for questioning or concern. He had to react. Quickly. He jumped up from his bed and reached for his gun on the wooden nightstand. His hand reached into nothing. He turned around and froze. His brother had approached him from behind and was now standing face to face with Aloysius, staring down onto his shorter brother, a nasty smile on his lips. Pendergast tried to take the only opportunity he had and tempted to set Diogenes off with a punch into the solar plexus. But his brother had anticipated the movement, turned and sent his brother to the wooden floor with a kick into his knee throat, using his own momentum against him. Pendergast landed on his knees and fell over; before he was able to rise, he felt Diogenes holding him down on the floor by pressing his foot into Pendergast’s back. Pendergast tried to push up with his arms, but as his stronger brother increased the amount of weight on his leg, he groaned and fell back.   
“Don´t even try, frater”, murmured the man above him. “You know why I am here. To end the affair that you started so many years ago”.  
“Diog- “, Pendergast began, but before he could continue, he felt Diogenes gripping his upper arm, turning him around and choking him with his left hand. He gasped; in that very instant he saw the silvery shimmer of a dirk and, in the next moment, felt a horrendous ache in his stomach region. Tears flashed into his eyes and he yelped in pain. He struggled to get free, but a heavy punch from Diogenes, aimed on his face, made him stay down.   
“Pain, frater. You know how much pain you caused me? A stab with a knife is nothing against the things you did to me. Both mentally and physically”. Pendergast tried to get up, but with that kind of injury and with that opponent, the situation was hopeless. A punch on his temple made his head fly back and his occiput violently hit the floor. He groaned.  
A sound from downstairs. Someone ascended the stairway.  
“Aloysius? Are you alright?”. The worried voice of Constance Greene, alarmed from the sounds coming out of his room.  
“Constance! – “. Diogenes quickly covered Pendergast´s mouth with his hand.   
“A pity that this attempted warning now sounded much more like a cry for help, brother”.  
“Aloysius!”.   
Pendergast attempted to respond something, but Diogenes’ grip was too strong. Everything that got out were soft moans. Again, Diogenes pulled up the knife in his fist, but this time, Pendergast reacted in time and turned sideways to avoid a severe injury.  
Footsteps were to be heard outside Pendergast’s bedroom now, followed by a knock on the door.   
“Aloysius! Answer me! Are you alright?”.   
“Oh wow. That caring, brother. I am truly touched”, Diogenes whispered into his older brother’s ear and, without another word, rose and placed himself next to the doorway, knife still clutched tightly in his hand.  
The door flew open and Constance hurried into the room, only to get slammed to the wall in an instant by Diogenes, who lightly pressed the tip of his knife into her throat. Constance cried out in surprise.  
“Pleased to see me?”. Diogenes smiled diabolically.   
Constance didn’t respond anything, but pulled up her hand, aiming her own stiletto knife at Diogenes’ chest. The movement was immediately blocked by Diogenes, her arms got pinned over her head and Diogenes kept her pressed to the wall with the weight of his body, while pulling the knife out of her hand. “Good one”, he whispered. He let it fall to the floor and placed his foot on the handle.   
“Come on Aloysius, try to help your ward; do something to protect her!”.   
Pendergast slowly got up to his feet, moaned and stumbled. He caught up on a shelf, supporting with both hands and pushed himself upwards, shaking on the whole of his body.  
“Diogenes, for heaven’s sake, leave her out of this”, Pendergast coughed. Blood splattered onto his white shirt.  
“I am not intending to follow this whish, Aloysius”. He turned fast, gripped Pendergast at the collar of his shirt and wrapped his right arm around his chest. Pendergast let out a sound of surprise. He got a feeling he was unable to assign immediately. Something had been stabbed into his neck… as he saw Constance’s shocked face, he suddenly came to realize what it was. But it was already too late, he felt Diogenes pressing the plunger, felt the drug floating through his body, his body going limp, his mind getting foggy. The last thing he noticed was how Diogenes guided him down to the ground, how Constance screamed his name in desperation, how his brother moved over to his ward and pulled her out of the room, muttering into her ear:  
“Don’t take any efforts, my dear. It’s deadly”.  
Hearing these words, Pendergast lost consciousness and he sank down into his own blood on the floor. And then the world around him dissolved into a pandemonium of shadows and obscurity.


	2. Adonis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Pendergast's terrible experience that night, he receives help from his best friend and partner, Vincent D'Agosta, who got led to the mansion by a text message on his phone, with a very enigmatic ending.... Meanwhile, Constance wakes up in the darkness, not knowing where she is and what Diogenes' intentions are...

Constance gazed into the dark. She was tied up and gagged. Still, she felt kind of comfortable. Her hands were not tied together with a rope or some handcuffs, rather with a tape of silk. So was her mouth. She noticed she wasn’t lying on the floor or another hard surface, but on something that felt soft and comfortable. After quite a while she realized that it was a couch.   
Diogenes, after all, a gentleman?  
Stop it, she told herself. He is nothing like a gentleman.  
All of the memories, emotions and pain flowed up to the surface again.  
“He almost made me kill myself. He made me believe that Aloysius, apart from Leng one of the very few persons that had truly loved me, was a liar, that Aloysius didn’t think I was trustworthy. That he didn’t love me at all. The only person that had betrayed me like no one else is Diogenes himself. He made me believe that I wasn’t loved by anyone, misunderstood and locked up at home, never meant to see the world out there and that he was the only man who saw me the way I actually was… who loved me the way I was. But he had lied. I never had been important to him. He has only used me to hurt Aloysius. He has killed him tonight.

Riverside Drive, 5 am  
Vincent D’Agosta looked down onto his mobile phone. He read the message again. Sent from an unknown number.  
Pendergast might be needing your help. Better hurry up. Riverside Drive. Adonis.  
He had gripped his gun immediately and jumped out of bed as he had received the text. If Pendergast really was needing his help and this wasn’t just a bad joke, then it was a serious situation. Pendergast almost never needed help. He was standing in front of Riverside Drive 891, looking up the façade. The old mansion was making a pleasant black contrast to the sky that was enchanted with the light of the sunrise over East River. D’Agosta rang the doorbell. No response. Usually, the door opened within seconds. Also, there were no sounds to be heard from inside.   
“Pendergast?”, D’Agosta yelled. “Can you hear me?”  
Pendergast never was sleeping at this time, he should be awake to hear him.  
D’Agosta sneaked around the house, realizing it hadn’t been that bit of a good idea to shout into an empty house without even knowing who was in there. Except Pendergast and Constance of course. As he got to the rear entrance, he tried to open the door, but it was locked from inside. With a heavy kick he made it fly open and crash against the wall behind.   
Oh, stupid, stupid! He really had to be more quiet. D’Agosta sneaked up the stairway, trying to be as silent as possible. Just the creaking of the stairs under his weight. He was breathing slowly, trying to hold his breath as long as possible and releasing it quietly. Another step. Breathing in. He almost started coughing.  
Damn that dust, he thought.   
“Pendergast?”, he whispered. No response. Again. “Pendergast!”, louder this time. Still, no one answered.   
He took a look into the seating and living room. Nothing. He checked the library. Nobody. After a few minutes there was nothing left except Pendergast’s bedroom. The only room Pendergast had told D’Agosta not to enter. What should he do? Respect Pendergast’s privacy or make sure he was alright? D’Agosta went for the last option. He pushed the door open and entered the room. The walls were almost blank, only a few things to be spotted. Two incredibly beautiful paintings, one of them showing a hunting scene, the other one a bridge over a river, dark clouds on the sky. The paintings were matching each other in a strange kind of way. In a bookshelf there were standing a few books like Hamlet, William Tell and other boring stuff D’Agosta didn’t even know about. To his vast surprise, he spotted Smithback’s Relic. The very first edition, released 1995. And – all of D’Agosta’s books. All of them. Not just one or two, but all eight titles he had published throughout two years as he had stopped working for the police.   
On the shelf, there was an old, blemished photograph, showing a very much younger Pendergast as he kissed a beautiful, red-brown haired woman. Both of them had their eyes closed and D’Agosta even fancied a soft smile on Pendergast’s face. Helen.   
Near that photograph, D’Agosta noticed something he had no idea about what it could be. A carefully carved, wooden crucifix. D’Agosta would have had considered it as beautiful, if there wouldn’t have been this little detail that made him shudder. The crucifix was stained with blood. Very old blood, at least twenty years. Above the crucifix, there was a note, written on a yellow piece of paper, old and almost falling apart. D’Agosta could barely read it. It wasn’t Pendergast’s handwriting, it was too rush to be his.   
Long live Incitatus.  
D’Agosta turned to his right. The large bed was blocking most of his view. He took one, two careful steps, hand on his gun.  
Oh my god.  
“Pendergast!”. A soft moan. So quiet that D’Agosta wasn’t even sure he had actually heard it.   
“Vince – “. Coughing. “Vincent?”   
Pendergast was lying on the floor, in his usual white shirt that now seemed to be rather crimson. His hair was soaked with blood, a small trickle of blood running out of his mouth angle.   
“Shit, Pendergast!”, D’Agosta shouted. “What happened? Who – “  
Pendergast just shook his head. “Lethal poison, appearing in a few minutes”, he gasped.  
“No…”   
“Diogenes.”   
D’Agosta couldn’t believe it.   
“I thought he was dead?”, he asked.   
“Started sending me messages a few weeks ago. Vincent, we are wasting time. I need you to find Constance, since I – “. He coughed again. This time, blood spattered on the floor.   
D’Agosta shook his head. This couldn’t be. “He must have left a note how to – he wouldn’t – “  
“He definitely would. Actually I thought he never wanted me to die. Something changed. He doesn’t want to take revenge only on me, but also on Constance. So he lets me die with the awareness that I will never see her again and keeps her alive with the conviction that I am dead.   
He’s filled with rage; he wants to destroy everyone that ever caused him any pain. Which would be mainly Constance and me – “. He coughed again and had to stop talking for a moment. As he continued, his voice was constrained from pain. “He isn’t just poking anymore. He doesn’t want me to suffer. He wants me to die”.   
D’Agosta shook his head. “He sent me a message on my phone… well, at least I think that it was him… It said: Pendergast might be needing your help. Better hurry up. Riverside drive. Adonis. Adonis, Pendergast… what does he mean with that? Is it a hint?”.  
Pendergast was starting to become unconscious, but as he heard the last words, D’Agosta saw a bit of strength reappearing in Pendergast’s gray eyes. And it was obviously enough to put Pendergast up to his feet. The agent supported on the wooden nightstand and moved over to a drawer besides the door.   
He pulled out a syringe and without hesitating, injected the content into his left arm. Pendergast stood still for a moment, then swayed and was about to collapse on the floor. D’Agosta rushed over and reached for Pendergast’s arm to support him. Pendergast kept his eyes closed, saying noting, not making a single noise. After a few seconds, his face relaxed and his eyes opened.   
“What the actual- “.  
“I’m alright… It worked”.


	3. An explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pendergast explains the meaning of the text message that landed on D'Agosta's phone an hour ago.

D’Agosta carefully looked at Pendergast. The agent was pale – paler than usual – and he looked terribly worn out. His eyes were still almost closed; a silvery glow behind the mist was everything D’Agosta could see in them. But Pendergast was right. The poison wasn’t working anymore.  
“Pendergast?”, D’Agosta asked quietly.   
Pendergast slowly turned his eyes towards D’Agosta. “Vincent, I – I need a moment. To – “, he clenched his teeth. “To take care of the wound. I – I’m losing too much – blood…”. He swayed and almost stumbled. “Bathroom”, he murmured and then vanished, supporting on the doorway.   
“God’s sake…”, D’Agosta whispered. 

In the small room, Pendergast leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. What was Diogenes up to? Why did Diogenes leave him a hint and why did he do it by sending a message to Vincent? Where was he now? Where was Constance? And – was she still alive?   
He urged himself to stay calm and to save up the questions for later. He took out a kit out of the old, mirrored cabinet in one corner of the ancient bathroom and opened it up. Inside, there was a large collection of bandages, patches, wound clips and quick-acting analgesics. He pulled off his shirt, removed a syringe and injected the content into his arm. He had to work fast, so he couldn’t wait until it developed the full effect. He took out some wound clips and clamped them over the wound to secure it. Then, he took out a curved needle and a twine to sew the stab. He sterilized the wound with disinfectant and started sewing up the wound. After he had finished, he used a bandage to keep the wound closed safely. He tossed the shirt into the laundry and left the room, still weak, but not as helpless as before. He was doing better.

In the sitting room, D’Agosta waited for his friend in the old armchair he used to sit in when he visited Pendergast in 891. Who was Adonis? And why had this message helped Pendergast to find the right antidote? What the fuck?  
In this very moment, Pendergast entered the room. He didn’t wear a shirt, so D’Agosta looked directly on Pendergast’s scarred upper body. He had taken care of the wound and there was a clean bandage over the area Diogenes had stabbed him. He didn’t look as well as usual, eyes a bit foggy and his skin pale. But he looked much better than a few minutes ago.   
Pendergast walked straight through the room and opened a cabinet on the wall on D’Agosta’s right. It was filled with black suit jackets, ties, pants and a whole lot of white shirts. D’Agosta spotted three black ones on hangers and two Hawaii shirts along with khaki pants in a lower drawer.  
Pendergast pulled on a regular white one and buttoned it up. After he had finished, he sat down in the armchair across D’Agosta and took a deep breath.   
“Pendergast?”, D’Agosta asked.   
“Vincent, I know you must have a lot of questions. But before you shall begin, let me please tell you something. First of all, I do not want you to interfere in this in any way. I am very grateful you came here, but I cannot accept that you put yourself into danger. I – “.  
“Pendergast.”  
D’Agosta looked at him for a while.  
“Pendergast, I really appreciate your cleverness. I admire how you plan things that seem impossible to me. I admire how you get information out of people just from poking with words. How you insult someone while staying polite. But in one thing you are such a dumbass.”  
Pendergast raised his eyebrow.   
“You are hurt. You just got drugged. You can’t even walk properly. Your hands are shaking; you would barely be able to aim correctly if you had to fire a shot. You know I am your friend and you know I would not even hesitate to die for you. And still, you want me to leave and to let you take this on your own?”  
Pendergast rose, briefly stopping to ease the pain. “Vincent, I am aware of the fact that you want to help, but I still have to contradict. You – will not interfere in this”. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out his black suit jacket, as if the discussion was ended now. But D’Agosta would not give up now.   
“And you really think this is going to stop me? Pendergast, You. need help with this. I will – “.   
“Vincent, did you even wonder for one second why he sent you a note that I was in danger and needed help?”  
“Geez, Pendergast I know what you mean. I know it is most certainly a trap and he wants me to come with you so he could… use me? Take me as hostage? Kill me? No idea what he is finally going to do, but... Look, I don’t care. I don’t care that I could also get in danger. And you know what? If you go there alone, if you go to find him on your own, the chance for you to die or to get captured by small angry little brother Diogenes is very high. And if there ain’t no Pendergast, there ain’t no rescue of Constance. No Pendergast – Diogenes won’t be stopped and kills even more people. Stopping him will be up to me. Without you?”, he laughed. “Low chance for this to work. There is a risk to die, I see that. For everyone involved. Even if I know you want to – you can’t protect me. You get that?”  
Silence. Pendergast slowly sat down in his chair again.  
“You’re right. I can’t protect you. But Vincent, please know that if you take part in this – “.  
“Agreed. Pendergast, I agreed, that’s it. And now stop talking about this. I’m in. So… who is this Adonis? Friend of yours?”.   
“He was – “, Pendergast stopped. “He was one of the animals Diogenes killed. But the first one that was lethally poisoned by him. He always made me watch when he worked on the poison, making me feel helpless and desperate, knowing that there was nothing I could do. What he didn’t know for a long time was that I was working on an antidote for the very poison he was developing. One day he told me he had finished and that he found the perfect mixture to kill a creature painful but quietly. Then he told me what animal he was going to use it for. My favorite pet back then, a black mastiff called Adonis. I thought that I could save him, I thought I would be able to use the antidote to save Adonis. I was just a child back then and I had no idea of what Diogenes was capable of. He of course had found out that I had put together an antidote, which is why he sneaked out of bed one night even though we both were not allowed to be out of our room during the night. I didn’t notice. The morning after this night I woke up having Diogenes sitting next to me, laughing and telling me what he had done. I don’t want to go into further details because I don’t suppose that it is necessary right now. Probably another time. The key part of this incident is that I kept the antidote over all these years. I don’t even know why. And talking about Diogenes’ message, I do think that he used the same poison on me, well knowing that I still had the antidote somewhere. I am wondering how Diogenes knew about this and how it could be that the antidote didn’t become ineffective over the years. It could be that Diogenes desperately replaced the syringe with a syringe filled with working antidote. I don’t know, really. His intention was to confuse Constance, to make her believe that I was dead, killed by Diogenes and that she was lost, all alone by herself. The question is: Where are they?”


	4. Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constance wakes up in an old fashioned room, Diogenes is being mean again and Pendergast gets nervous.  
> And Diogenes is looking strangely handsome...!

Shadows… dark and heavy they were all around her, preventing her from moving, clouding her vision and her mind. And then Leng and Aloysius… faces pale, dead and without emotion… their gray eyes staring into the distance… Diogenes holding his limp body as he guided Aloysius down to the floor, Aloysius desperately looking at her, eyes foggy, be it from tears or from the poison, Diogenes murmuring “Don’t take any efforts…”, him pulling her down the staircase… “It’s deadly” … the quiet, hollow “thunk” as Aloysius body hit the floor… Diogenes injecting a drug into her right arm… again, Aloysius, looking at her, blood dripping out of his nose, him coughing… “Diogenes, for god’s sake…”, blood splattering onto his stained white shirt… “leave her out of this…”   
Constance gasped and finally jerked up from the nightmare that had haunted her since she had gone unconscious again. She looked around the room. He eyes weren’t dulled by the drugs anymore.   
“Hello, beautiful”.  
Constance shrieked and jerked up from the sofa she was laying on.  
“No need to get scared so easily, my dear Constance”. The way Diogenes said that phrase reminded her of Aloysius. She rose quickly and walked over towards Diogenes, not entirely confident whether he would delay her or let her grant. Diogenes was situated in a dark brown leathern armchair, his red hair shimmering in the soft warm light of the chamber.   
“How dare you saying this”, Constance hissed. They both knew what she was referring to.  
Still, Diogenes started to enjoy this and continued teasing her.   
“Saying what, my dear Constance?”. Diogenes gave a sound of surprise as he felt Constance’s hand striking him, hard, into his face.   
“How dare you- “, she whispered. She didn’t entirely know how to continue, for he wasn’t showing any kind of reaction, apart from a priggish smile on his lips.  
“What now, Constance? You don’t know where you are, let alone what you should do to get out of here. Your guardian got, sad as it may be, poisoned to death, therefore, who should you rely on to get saved? Vincent D’Agosta? As if he’s capable of doing something without my dear clever brother. A pity he can’t expect much help from him right now”. Diogenes let out a sigh.   
“If nobody is going to save me… if there is no one there you can play with… why do you keep me alive? You told me to kill myself, you wanted me dead. Why don’t you just fulfill your whish and end this affair already?”. She was unable to hide the grief and the fury in her voice.   
“I keep you alive solely to my own amusement. You’re like a butterfly, Constance, beautiful, shimmering in the light, but pinned to a board, a needle stabbed through his petite body. Well knowing that there is no way to escape, well knowing that everything in his sweet little world will come to an end presently, it’s still fidgeting, making efforts of which it knows that they are of no avail. This is you right now, Constance. You’re struggling to reach a goal of which you, firstly, don’t even exactly know exactly what it consists of. And secondly, you know that you will never reach this goal. You secretly know that there is no way out. No way to escape”. Constance had settled onto the sofa again; she was shedding tears, desperate about the happenings of the last hours…   
“So what are you going to do? Put efforts into a pointless struggle or just accept what is happening and enjoy your time with me here? We have a garden, a gallery, books, wine, Absinthe, …”. 

“I must have missed something. He wouldn’t... He wouldn’t just leave without a note… something, something”  
Pendergast was rushing through his sleeping room, pulling up drawers, shaking books out, pages heading towards the floor.  
“Pendergast”. Pendergast stopped and turned.   
“Look at me. If you continue like this, you will never find anything. You are upset, you can’t focus. And, just as an advice, you should probably think for a while about where exactly Dio would hide his message, before you blow up your own mansion looking for it.   
Pendergast turned and gazed at him with eyes looking like chips of ice. After a time, he nodded.  
“I am too emotional in that matter”, he admitted and sat down in the armchair next to him. “But where else am I supposed to look? I considered every option possible and the result was nothing but a damaged bookshelf and a shattered glass”. He rested his head back against the soft leather. “I might use every advice you have- “.  
“What about a little Chongg-Ran session? I mean, alright, I don’t really know what you do in the head of yours but maybe it’s possible for you to- “.  
Pendergast shushed him with a movement of his hand. “I hope the result will be positive, but I am a bit untrained at the moment. But you are correct, it might be worth a try”.  
And with that, he closed his eyes and crossed his hands over the white shirt covering his chest and started the preparation work before he could enter the depths of his mind and memory.

Another look at the man next to her. Handsome as the day she had met him, a scar crossing his left cheek, but, apart from that, everything was as it had used to be. Diogenes was wearing one of his night blue suits, a white tie and a white shirt. As he stood beside her like that, right hand resting on the red velvet curtain drawn from the window, having the warm blaze of the morning sun mirror in his hazelnut brown eye, making his hair shimmer in a golden blaze, he seemed almost harmless. The look on his face, peaceful, gentle, made her forget the things he had done to her for a moment. She just couldn’t take her eyes off him, admiring how stunning he actually looked. “What are you thinking of, Constance?”, he murmured without taking his eyes off the sun-kissed garden in front of the house. For a moment, Constance was taken aback by the sudden and direct question, but then she answered: “Where we are… this mansion here is, well, beautiful, but it doesn’t really look like Manhattan… all these trees and grass- “.  
“We’re about thirty miles north, an old mansion I once lived in for a time. As the owner died a short time ago, I took the opportunity and bought the mansion”. He took a short break from speaking. “And what are you really thinking of?”.   
Constance looked at him, surprised. But as she spotted the knowing smile on his face that she had even missed a bit the past years, she felt all her caution melt away and she whispered: “I was thinking about how good-looking you are- “, but then she cut her breath and felt a slight blush creeping on her face. To her surprise, Diogenes’ reaction was nothing as she had expected it to be. He smiled as well as he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to his chest.  
And Constance let it happen.


End file.
